


If We Could Turn Back Time...

by Maeve_Lindsay



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Everyone lives, F/M, Hope, Love, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Protective Team, Second Chances, Team as Family, The One Where Maeve Doesn't Die, everyone is a little broken, slow start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_Lindsay/pseuds/Maeve_Lindsay
Summary: The moment that Diane Turner fired her weapon, Spencer watched his entire future flash before his eyes. It was full of indescribable loneliness and fear. And Maeve wasn't a part of it anymore. He could see himself twenty years down the road, sitting in his dusty apartment, imagining all that could have been. When he finally pulls himself out of his daze, he realizes that he wouldn't have to wonder. He just had to save her, and she would save him from the terrifying future he envisioned.





	1. Stay Alive

****Spencer's POV****

The sound of a gunshot crackled through the air. It bounced off the walls, making my body jump at the amplified, deafening sound that ricocheted and bombarded my senses. It surrounded me. I felt a tremendous weight crash in my chest. My heart took a sudden freefall into a void that seemed to only end in a numbed feeling of sickening dread, leaving me completely incapacitated.

Standing there, rooted to the spot, I was useless. I hardly had more presence or substance than an idle tree watching lightning strike the ground beside it in a hurricane. It seemed perfectly logical to me that the only option was to stand there, staring, while Maeve and Diane slumped to the ground. An invisible force pushed the two women down until they crashed like petrified statues against the unfinished concrete floor. 

_They fell hard,_ I thought to myself, simply recognizing facts without any further analysis of them. I felt the faint shaking of the ground as the vibrations travelled, dissipating a moment later. 

I had fallen so madly in love with Maeve; to a level that was beyond what I could have even rationalized had my thoughts not been a jumbled mess. Questions flew through my head, all of them producing the same frustrating answer: _I don't know._

What do I do now?

She can't be still alive after that, can she?

Why is nobody moving?

Did she die knowing I was lying when I said I didn't love her?

Was this my fault? 

Was this my fault? 

Maeve lay unmoving just a few feet away. The scene made violent waves of sorrow shoot through me, but they hardly broke through the overwhelming feeling of… nothing. Of emptiness. Of numbness. 

Pulling together a list of things I knew, I tried to straighten my thoughts. I knew my heart was racing, that would only be logical. My head must have been pounding. I knew that… I could not move, and that I didn't feel a thing. 

This tiny voice in my head tried to reason with me.

_"These are all the classic signs of shock. You know this. In a moment you'll snap out of it. You'll feel, and you can't let it destroy you."_

The voice continued with its reasoning. On how I, in fact, was not paralyzed. That this was all the simple product of adrenaline coursing through my veins, and my brain attempting to preserve whatever sanity remained. 

I suppose all that thinking really came down to one, absolutely useless, conclusion: nothing that I knew really mattered. Why? Because I stood watching as Maeve fell, and there was nothing more I could do.

I attempted to test the limits of my "paralysis", which seemed to have spilled over from my head into the rest of the world. The sole movement in the room was when I managed to dart my gaze away from Maeve lying de...

I clenched my eyes tightly shut, pushing out all the external stimuli, and eradicating the image of Maeve lying on that floor from my thoughts. I fought against tears that threatened to fall, burying them under layer after layer of hatred, anger, fear, uncertainty, and pain.

Thoughts of rage and suffering so intense that they terrified me flitted across the darkness of my vision. To escape them my eyes opened again of their own volition and settled on Maeve once again. I desperately wanted to see her, to get to really know the woman after hundreds of hours of only knowing the voice, but I despised the entire world more and more with every second that I burned the picture of that moment into my memory.

Time itself simply refused to pass. The entire concept was foreign and unnerving to me. I was so accustomed to having almost every minute planned, anticipated, and organized. But how does someone organize something that no longer exists? It was as if the entire world had fallen asleep in the moment, leaving everything still, lifeless, and eerie.

With my head foggy, processing my surroundings grew more and more difficult. I failed to process my observations beyond the basic facts, which were hardly satisfactory in explaining why the world no longer made any sense.

Maeve and Diane lay half a dozen feet in front of me in the middle of the rundown, abandoned room. Faded yellow curtains were piled in a heap at the base of a window across from me. The reflection of the lighted room created a mirror on the window set against the pitch-black night sky. 

_Refraction_, I commented to myself in my stupor. _That's how the window is casting that image. _

In it, I could see JJ standing behind me, close enough that if we were both to just reach out… I could almost imagine the feeling of her comforting touch. My eyes continued observing the picture. The team - my team - stood just inside the doorway. All of them: Hotch, Morgan, and Emily. They were all witnessing the same event I was. There were the wooden chairs that still lay upturned after being forgotten in the commotion. Two of them, one for Maeve, and one for me. I could see the vague outline of a couch and maybe a lamp that was buried beneath dusty white sheets. 

Every piece of the moment, the people and the scenery, had become stuck in a frozen tableau of the worst moment of my life. I wasn't sure if every second was slowing down tenfold, or if it was merely the people that were there with me that had stopped. Standing, staring at the scene, my chest tightened in renewed panic as I came to a realization, finally listening to some form of reason. Whatever sensible part of my brain that was left tried to explain it to me. How any second now, the shock and the slowing down of time is going to end. I was trained to be able to assess situations in seconds, and those seconds had almost disappeared. 

Accepting it as unavoidable, I tried desperately to draw air into my lungs, which seemed to be caught in the same loss of consciousness as the rest of the world. Maeve… My scattered thoughts rushed through my mind, still too muddled and moving too fast to make anything of them, despite my best efforts. There was no use trying to piece together the internal puzzle that was thoughts and feelings right now. I couldn't even find the ability to say something - anything - to her. 

I changed my mind about what I thought was important. All I knew was this: trying to understand the details of what happened was necessary if I was to do something other than being caught in this sliver of frozen time.

First things first, I was not in denial. Diane shot Maeve and then shot herself. The idea was ludicrous to me, but the facts were right there. However much I didn't want to believe it did not make the statement untrue. I never thought Diane would go through with it. That wasn't what I had planned for. An option so clouded by my feelings for Maeve and my strongly misdirected optimism that I hadn't considered what would happen next.

A strange change suddenly allowed me to snap my focus onto something real. Blood began to pool underneath Diane Turner's head, turning her blond hair a sickening shade of scarlet.

In a sudden surge of sound and flurry of movement, as if someone had hit play once again, the room came back to life. 

"Maeve!" The shout burst from somewhere deep within me, and if I had any reliable belief system at all, I might even say it came straight from my soul. My own voice sounded foreign and strained. I hardly would have noticed or recognized it at all had it not drew the attention of my team members. I could feel their eyes jump from Maeve to me. So much for thinking up a plan for what comes next. Spontaneously, feeling absolutely no control over my own body, I threw myself to the ground, kneeling at Maeve's side. Thoughts flew through my head faster and faster, keeping me preoccupied while my body seemed to have a mind of its own. One that reasoned, one that had answers instead of questions.

Gingerly, I lifted Maeve's head and laid it on my lap. I noticed tears rolling down my cheeks, falling from my chin to the floor, and I tried to remember when they had started, but that question got whisked away in the raging flow of the others. Small, dark spots splattered the cold concrete now where tears fell and were absorbed a second later. The rest of my team remained silent, standing off to the side, but not so far away that I felt abandoned. I was glad they were here at least, even if there was nothing they could do except be here… Maybe there was nothing I could do except be here.

Eyes drifting across Maeve's face, my fingers stroking her hair, I felt utter hopelessness. The kind that makes you feel dead on the inside, even if your lungs still breathe and your heart continues to beat. A sudden, overwhelming heat against my leg startled me. Although I don't know why, until this moment my body and mind felt separate. As if I was only watching everything idly while the events unfolded. But this feeling shocked my senses with such force that in an instant I regained some semblance of control. I started to think again, to plan ahead, to sort through my thoughts, to understand. 

I stopped myself from noticing Maeve. As painful as it was to do, I forced myself to look past her. Finding what wasn't there, I recognized one crucial detail was missing.

"There's no entry wound," I whispered, my voice still hoarse and choked. I shifted a few inches and noticed a deep red, almost brown stain on my khakis. With as much care as possible, I tilted Maeve's head to the side, revealing a large gash leading to a dime-sized hole across the back of her neck.

I started to lose my ability to breathe again. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could hear it in my head. I hoped beyond any belief system that I could imagine, wishing for a miracle, for a god, for anything, to help me find what I was looking for. The smallest sign. I searched for the movement of her chest as she took a breath, or for the slightest involuntary twitch. But it wasn't there. Pressing my fingers to her wrist, beyond desperation, I counted to three seemingly endless seconds. Feeling nothing I moved on, trying, begging, to find any pulse at all. She… couldn't be gone. It wasn't as simple as that, I thought to myself, knowing well that it was. Humans are too fragile, I have seen firsthand how easy it was for someone to just… fade away. Knowing that people can be ripped away from right in front of you, in a moment, was an earth-shattering fact that I just couldn’t come to terms with.

I exhaled deeply, my fingers laying limp against her neck. I closed my eyes, and as I did, I felt a twitch. My eyes jolting open I felt reinvigorated with a sense of limitless energy. I channelled my focus on the feeling of that twitch. 

_That wasn't my imagination_, I told myself firmly. I felt it again, the flutter of blood circulating, of a heart beating. Sharply I took in a breath and started counting. I had to be sure. _One_. The twitching could be something other than a pulse. _Two_. I was on my knees, and I let my chin lift upwards, looking sternly at the ceiling. _Three_. I couldn't be wron-.

"Help," my voice rasped the moment I felt the beat again. The sound of my voice was broken, feeble. I tried again, filling my pleas with every ounce of energy I had left. "Help! She's alive!" I croaked desperately, my voice cracking and dying a second time. "I-I have a pulse" I refused to leave her side. "She has a pulse" I whispered to myself, nearly not believing it. A new wave of tears flooded my vision.

All of my attention was on the small, faint beating against my fingertips. I counted over and over again to two. Sometimes I was forced to wait until three, and my heart leaped into my throat every time I did, afraid that I had lost her all over again. 

I could vaguely sense my team leaping into action. Clearly, they thought that both Maeve and Diane had… I swallowed hard, shaking my head. Past the counting and tracking the rhythm, I could hear Hotch calling to dispatch someone to come help us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the others moving, but I wasn't sure what they were doing. If I'm honest with myself, I didn't care. Help was on its way.

I forced myself to look, assess, and make a plan, or at least to try again. All that came to mind was all the things I wished I had said to Maeve before, and if she could hear me, how scared she must be.

"You'll have a fighting chance. I promise. I'll give you everything, every chance I can. Just stay alive." My whisper was faint. 

The bullet had torn its harsh path along the back of Maeve's neck, but her pulse was definitely still strong enough to feel once found. That was something. All I needed was something to cling to and I would go on until I couldn’t anymore.

Emily spoke urgently into the square radio attached to the breast of her jacket. JJ knelt to my left, and I glanced at her for a moment. She was powerless to help me now, but her presence was still a great comfort. I know it pained her to watch as I began to fall into a panicked frenzy, drowning in my own fears. She had always been there for me, she was my family.

I had to do something more. Rushing to remove my navy blue FBI bulletproof vest, I tossed it aside, pulling off my sweater vest underneath. I folded it into an untidy cube, hoping it would be enough. Gently, I guided Maeve's head on top of the newly formed bundle, trying to staunch the slow, steady stream of blood that wasn’t getting any better. I continued to attempt to breathe. At least nothing had gotten any worse - if that were any consolation.

Helplessness weighed heavily on my heart. I brushed away a strand of hair from the side of her pale face... I detached myself and my feelings from the rest of the world as exhaustion began to consume me. I isolated Maeve and I in a bubble. My earlier boost of energy, no doubt a product of the adrenaline, faded as quickly as it had come. All I could hold onto were two perpetually climbing numbers. The first was me keeping count of Maeve's pulse, and the second was keeping track of how long it would be until help arrived. Two numbers were the only thing that mattered because those numbers could save Maeve's life. And she was the only thing that mattered. 

The only thing left for me to do was to observe and count.

I couldn't help but notice every detail of the person who I had longed to meet. There was the soft way the light settled across her features, and how thin, wavy shadows lined the floor as her long auburn hair blocked the light. The dimly lit atmosphere gave her a dainty quality, but I knew better - Maeve was anything but delicate or frail. I had to have faith in her strength. 

She seemed so much calmer now, unlike the crying and anxious mess I'd seen these past few hours. Her hair was tied back, and pale purple eyeshadow that complimented her skin dusted her eyelids. Tiny gold hoops dotted each ear. I would have given anything for a chance to see her under different circumstances. It wasn't fair that this would be the memory of our first real meeting. It wasn't fair. 

Despite what I saw on a daily basis, regardless of the fact that I watch people fall apart every day and never recover, I still believed in something beautiful. The stories never said it would be like this. It was supposed to all be magic, and warmth, and moonlight. I tried to distract myself, but never enough to stop counting. It had been seventy seconds since the call for help. The numbers continued to hypnotize me. Maeve's heart had beat forty-three times. 

I thought about how wonderful it would be when we finally escaped this horror. How it would be different, what we would do… how happy we could be. Tears flooded my eyes as I could almost imagine her laughing and smiling as the scent of flowers in a wide-open field filled our senses. 

Well... maybe not quite so cliche as that. All of those fantasies would require a future. And that further required a sense of hope that I barely even had the strength to hold onto anymore.

I tried to calm my racing heart to no avail. _Just keep counting_, I whispered to myself. Ninety seconds and seventy-one heartbeats later, JJ shuffled a few inches closer. Placing one hand comfortingly on my knee, her lips managed an encouraging smile. I couldn't return the favour. I just kept counting the numbers in my head. 

"Hey," She whispered quietly to me, as if any loud noise may shatter the dream - no, the nightmare-like - world that we were in. "Tell me what's going through your mind. You have to keep a cool head. We will help you, and we will help Maeve. She's going to get through this, and so are you." I know JJ would be there for me no matter what happened. That's who she was. Loyal, protective, and honest, she wouldn't give up on you.

My body felt empty, and my senses were dulled. Only managing to shake my head meekly, my eyes remained downcast. "JJ... I… I," I tried, stuttering while trying to form some kind of coherent sentence from my thoughts. "I have all of this knowledge." I began. "Of-of medicine and trauma and…" Trailing off, I almost lost count. A hundred and fifty seconds, a hundred and eight heartbeats. The only thing that kept me going, that kept me sane, was the count. 

"I know exactly how these things work… but... I can't even think past the next few seconds. If Maeve… if she…" my voice cracked in a sob and tears formed shaky, glistening lines down my cheeks that reflected small glimmers of light into my eyes. "If she… because I couldn't save her…"

The brave act I had been grasping onto shattered. The dam that wad forcing back the panic, anxiety, pain, fear and mixed emotions I just couldn't place burst with such intensity that I was forced to stop counting. I lost track of the numbers while my body shook and my eyes burned.

JJ's hand moved from my knee up to my forearm, a tight grip pulling me back to reality. "You're doing so good, keep holding that pressure. Maeve's doing good. You two are going to make it through this, helps almost here." Her words dragged my consciousness further from the abyss that she could see me falling into. She always was the most perceptive person. I'm sure that by now my eyes were deadened, hollow, and that my frail, shaking frame only added to the image that I was broken. JJ would have to end up saving me too.

For a moment, my eyes met hers. Giving me an intense, desperate, yet determined look, JJ grounded me. "What if they can't help her," I whispered, terrified of what that might mean. I looked down at Maeve, the one who, at this moment, was everything to me. In her, I saw an integral part of my life fading away. I tried for a positive outlook, even if positivity was the furthest thing from what I was truly feeling.

I leaned down, lying to myself that maybe Maeve could hear me, despite him knowing the odds of that were slim, but realistically almost none. 

"You," I said, choking down my fear and swallowing hard before continuing. "Are going to be just fine." I mustered. "We still have so much to talk about every Sunday. You and I are going to spend time together, and we can explore the world, and enjoy all the little things." Tears continued flowing in faint streams down my face. I wanted - I needed this to be meaningful. Being unable to breathe or even really think straight was making that unreasonably difficult 

Refusing to bow down from this fight, not now that it meant so much, and not when I knew it would get worse before it got better, I fought. I encouraged Maeve to fight. For herself. For us. For an entire life still to be lived. "And there are so many more things in this world that need all that passion you have. You have this spark. And it's beautiful." I took a deep breath. "You will be ok."

It quickly became my mantra. _"She will be ok. She will be ok."_ Out of the corner of my eye, I could see JJ wiping a tear from her cheek. I struggled to keep my composure knowing that JJ was my rock and that she too had lost to the overwhelming pain.

"I need you to be ok. I don't know what I would do if you weren't..." The longer we waited for help, the further she slipped away, and it was killing me. I could see a pale splotch of red beginning to seep through the bundled cardigan. 

"I… need you," I admitted for the first time. "I don't know when it happened or what that even means but I…"

Suddenly my entire world was swept into a turmoil of noise and motion, a blur of overstimulation. My brain registered shouting, orders, footsteps, something, like a device, beeping rhythmically, and a crashing sound as people burst in the room. After all of this registered, only one though finished processing. _"Finally."_

Medics rushed into the room, two running towards us with bags slung over their shoulders and another two carrying a gurney. Assessing the situation quickly, the EMT who was clearly in charge began giving information and orders to the others. It was chaotic while maintaining a hectic sec if order. 

One of them, young, pale-skinned, and clearly the most junior of the four, asked me to step aside to give them room to work. Somehow, despite this bring precisely what I had been praying for, I just shook my head. He demanded this time, insistent, and I was forced to let her go as JJ's hand insistently pulled me away. Maeve's life wasn't in my hands anymore, and that realization both uplifted and crushed my spirit. She was in their hands, the professionals, the people who could save her. 

I stepped, or really stumbled, back to where Morgan stood with the rest of the team, and I started shaking. I could only stare at the woman who, before today, I had never met. The one thing that dominated my mind was nothing but another number. Not the seconds until help arrived, or the number of Maeve's heartbeats 

"2413…" I said out loud, barely audible, yet it still caught Morgan's attention. That was how many hours Maeve and I had spent corresponding. The letters and the phone calls and the emails. It seemed like so many, enough for a lifetime's worth of somebody, but it… just wasn't.

"Hey kid, it's going to be alright." Morgan put a gentle hand on my shoulder, but instead of comfort, all I felt was more weight. The words of encouragement fell on deaf ears because the words' ok' and 'alright' had lost their meaning altogether.

"I got to spend one more hour with her," I said, shaking my head incredulously. "One more hour of knowing her and understanding her and now she might…" I could form logical sentences, put thoughts into words just fine, as if someone had finally flicked the lights back on, but I still couldn't say it. 

I continued to talk, "Morgan, how could it have made it all so much worse? An hour. The time it takes a person to do their groceries or have a phone call with a friend. What if that was all I had left and this..." I stopped again frustrated with everything wrong in the world but at myself all the same. I tried not to show weakness when I was around the team, but it was impossible now. 

Maeve was being carried away to what I prayed was a place filled with people who could do something for her. 

The young EMT approached me, "We're taking them to Queensbury General Hospital. You can't come with us, there is no time and no space left. We will do everything we can. Have some hope, it could be a lot worse."

"You have to let me-!" I exclaimed but was immediately interrupted. 

"You can follow us or meet us there, but we can't have an untrained civilian in the ambulance."

I went to open my mouth to protest further, but for a split second I turned the thought over in my head. I gave a soft nod, and I watched the EMTs whisk away the busy sounds and movements faster than they had arrived.

I stood there frozen once again. The body of Diane Turner lay on the concrete of the abandoned basement, growing cold and already forgotten in the frenzy. A single person, a middle-aged man with a coroner jacket and long shaggy hair, remained. 

Morgan's hand was guiding me now, pushing me in one direction. I moved, following him with very few thoughts or feelings of my own. It was over, and I gave into the shock and the exhaustion. I could feel my soul resisting, not wanting to leave its shock-induced state. It felt safe to hide inside myself like a hermit crab. I let it stay there. 

I wanted to be with Maeve. I'd have fought harder for that right, but I knew it was no use. What she needed right now I couldn't give her. I needed to see her to the hospital and to be there every moment. But I couldn't. 

I could hear the sound of sirens in the distance. They were already gone. I did not want to be thrown back to the outside world where I would have to face more unsubs… and more loss. The thought that Maeve may not survive made the world seem so much... emptier. So much more pointless. 

I glanced through the window to the outside world just as, with my team behind me and Morgan guiding me gently towards the exit, it began to rain.


	2. To Stumble Is To Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer's world is on the verge of collapse. Separated from Maeve, he's left alone with his thoughts. Despite the doubts and fears arising in his head, his team remains by his side. JJ finds herself helping Spencer to put his shattered self back together, and there's finally a semblance of hope. 
> 
> But when has it ever been that easy for the BAU?

****JJ's POV****

I lead our small procession onto the landing after the final set of stairs and what felt like a mile-long trek. Behind me, Morgan maintained his steadying grip on Spence's shoulder. I went to push on the rusted metal bar that stretched horizontally across the door when Spencer finally broke the heavy silence. 

"You could open that door, and we might all wander out into a different world," he said softly, "a better one."

I shot Hotch a look that asked: _"how do we even respond to that?"._

Here stood six formally trained government agents, well versed in the nuances and types of psychological behaviours. Each of us found it simple in our day to day workplace to reason with and support victims of shock. Despite having this wealth of knowledge, it was all beyond our grasp. It frankly didn't apply to Spencer.

"You know what I mean?" Spence continued on as if he was having an ordinary conversation with us. 

We began to shake our heads, but he had already resumed his explanation. "It's like when you're in a dream, and you walk through a door, or you fall unexpectedly, and suddenly you're awake?"

I stepped closer to Spence, reaching out to comfort him. "Spence, this-"

"I know," he stopped me.

His eyes strayed around the small space, his gaze never lingering anywhere for more than a few seconds.

"This isn't a dream. I'm - I'm not having a psychological episode or anything. " Spence quickly made up a forced half-smile, brushing away his apparent frustration, and pushed past me to get to the door.

An unexpected rush of chilly air enveloped us, jolting our senses while making it easier to breathe with every inch the door gave way. It swung with hesitation out into the night, creaking loudly in protest. The world was lit by the collage of pale white moonlight broken by spots of yellowed glare emanating from the street lamps. 

The mundane landscape was unusually beautiful in the moment. You could hear the sounds of dozens of people living their lives accompanying the faint breeze. The distant shrieking of children playing a couple blocks away made everything feel… normal.

_"What an abrupt difference a door can make,"_ I thought to myself. _"It has the power to separate all of this from the dull, heavy air that smelled of dust and the sheet-covered furniture of the abandoned building."_

As we neared our vehicles, I contemplated what we would even do next. We all liked to believe we knew Reid better than he knew himself. And, usually, that held true. But I couldn't even fathom what must be going on inside his head.

Being profilers ninety percent of the time, it wasn't unusual to quickly pick up on personalities, tells, and queues from other people. It happened on instinct. When it became an issue was when it inevitably involved us doing the same each other. For the sake of all of our privacy and sanity, we usually followed a simple, silent rule: 'no profiling.' Well, at least not profiling out loud. We basically lived together, and it was the small efforts like this that kept everyone content.

Yet, after today, I couldn't help but envision how this could have turned out differently if I had just looked harder. The signs following the changes in Spencer's life were so blatantly obvious in hindsight, but I never looked beyond what he put directly in front of me to see.

Each of us could testify as to how Spencer responded to deeply personal situations. He always turned speechless, and a disconnected demeanour followed. Turtling inside his own head, Spence would lose himself pondering the imperfectness of the world. Retreating into his impenetrable shell until he put himself back together, Spencer completely shut us out to deal with his own emotions. 

This coping mechanism of his was one of the ways our personalities conflicted, and not for the better. If someone is falling apart in front of me, I nurture them. Spence, on the other hand, refused to accept help from anyone. He didn't want the pity, or to drag other people down with him.

Until he wanted to be helped, I felt virtually useless to do much more than staying by his side.

I understood his fervid desire to follow Maeve to the hospital. If the roles were reversed, I would demand to be with Will.

"Spence," I murmured softly. His head was downcast, and I beckoned him to look up at me. We were all there to support him, knowing he was strong enough alone, but that it would hurt less in the end if he weren't. The defence that Spencer had been maintaining throughout this ordeal was gradually shattering.

Spence shrugged away from Morgan's hand, his shoulders rising a little, posture straighter, and he held his head up a little higher. 

"I'm okay," he said, with as much resolution as he could muster. "I just -" he tilted his head, running shaking fingers through his hair. "I just need the keys." Spence motioned towards the two SUVs we had arrived in. 

"Look at me, Reid," Morgan demanded, taking a few steps closer until he stood in front of his friend. "You're in no state to drive, and if you think I'm letting you leave here alone, you've got another thing coming kid." 

"You - all of you - have to go back to the BAU. Tell Garcia what happened - I need to take time off, and - and you have to get debriefed." Spence rambled. Now that he was talking it was like he couldn't quite keep up with himself. Weariness evident, he sighed, and stared at us sadly, "This isn't something you have to fight for."

I held my ground, we all did. I'm sure each of us had a different reason, but we were wholly committed to Spence. I made a promise, years ago, that I would be there for him. "We're all in this together."

"Come on, Reid," Emily jumped in, walking towards the vehicles. She nodded at the SUV closest to us, not leaving any options on the table. "Let's go to Queensbury."

Spence looked about to renew the argument, but, giving each of our unyielding faces a glance, recognized the pursuit would be futile. 

I rolled my eyes, _"classic Em,"_ I thought, as she tossed the keys my way.

Spence and I would drive together, while Moran, Hotch, Rossi and Emily would follow behind. It was probably for the best. Spence didn't need the constant overwhelming presence of people. 

The red and blue lights still flashed, contrasting against the darkening skies that cast long shadows off the buildings and trees.

Once the doors clicked shut, Spence stared at the floor. A weight just pulled his head down into a permanent slump despite him managing to perk up optimistically a moment ago.

"What if I lose her?" He blurted abruptly as I was pulling out onto the paved road.

I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Usually, I had advice or at least some inkling of it, but not now. I was trying to think of the best way to help him soothe the anxiety.

"You know what I think, Spence?" I finally asked him. He shook his head at the rhetorical question, and I saw his face through his messy hair. Flushed and stained with faint salt streaks, no amount of assurances of his being 'okay' would make me believe it.

"I know what love is, I feel it every time I walk into the office or go through my front door, but I'll never understand it. I'm surprised you never mentioned Maeve - who's clearly such an important part of your life - but I understand why you hid her from us. When you're in love," I smiled at the thought, "it seems like common sense to stand calmly in the eye of the storm with your person while the world collapses around you. Love doesn't make sense, but that is what makes it extraordinary and worthwhile. I know that at this moment the world isn't in your favour, but it's going to end up alright." I stated. The moment I said it, I tried to double-back, rewinding what I had just said. It was sincere, and everything that I believed, but it didn't quite seem enough.

Spence turned to face me, and, since the flashing red and blue lights had stopped, his face was lit by the alternating lights and shadows from the coming and going of overhead street lamps.

"How did you know you were in love with Will?" He asked.

His question surprised me. Had I ever really thought about it? I hadn't shared many details like that about Will and I, and it's not the kind of question I ever expected Spence to ask me. It might be something that would come up on girls' night at the end of an evening with drinks and silly conversations. I'm sure I'd have a better answer then too.

"Well..." I faltered, trying to give it some real consideration. It was tough to envision a time when I didn't love Will, and I had always been at least attracted to him.

After a few seconds, I decided, and my decision felt right. "Remember that cold case we were investigating in Missouri?

"Yeah, we were working with his team there." Reid nodded, he knew every case we had worked. I'll never understand how he coped with this job with his eidetic memory. It enabled him to remember all the people who had been killed or that had suffered such unbelievable trauma. We all remembered the hard cases, and everyone was kept up at night on occasion by thoughts of the past, but I couldn't conceive how many times that pain would be magnified for Spence.

I shook away the second train of thought and continued my story, hoping it would bring Spence a sense of comfort. "Well, I never told anyone why I was late checking in. After we all turned in for the night, this was after I'd spent the day working with Will on the other side of town, I wasn't with the rest of you because I went across the street to buy some flowers for my room. Remember how Garcia would suggest that every time we went on a case?"

Spence smiled slowly. I was about to continue the story when he spoke. "She would always say that we should have splashes colour around us because colours and beautiful things are - how did she put it?"

"Chicken soup for the soul." I laughed. "Like those books." 

Spence nodded gently, his gaze distant. "Chicken soup for the soul," he repeated.

The silence stretched on for long enough that I decided to finish the story. "The store didn't have any flowers. The cashier saw me staring at the empty wall, and he said, "sorry ma'am, a man came in 'bout fifteen minutes ago and bought the entire shelf." 

"Will, I'm assuming?"

I acknowledged, smiling. "I went back to my hotel room, and as soon as I opened the door, all I could see were flowers everywhere. I mean everywhere. I even found some stuck to the television later. Will was there, and he didn't want anything like you might think. I knew then, and there I loved him because he was just sitting on the bed, doing the crossword in the Sunday paper, drinking tea. He handed me a cup, getting my favourite kind right too, and the first thing he said to me was, "I thought you could use the company. Plus, someone has to finish this crossword." 

I was beaming and laughing so genuinely that I forgot everything except that story. "That was the day I knew I loved him." I finished.

Will desired to put me first, and he understood how my job was busy, and demanding, and continuously overwhelming that sometimes I just wanted a taste of everyday life. That's what made me love him.

Spencer was silent for a while. I decided to let him think, and I focused on the drive to the hospital. I followed the prompt instructions given by the built-in GPS on the dashboard.

My gaze wandered around in the darkness, following lights and the occasional passing car. Someone was driving alongside us on the slim, two-lane highway. It was a tiny car, entirely black, and heavily tinted.

It slipped back a little, slowing until it matched the speed of the SUV behind us with Hotch at the wheel and the rest of the team. I thought it was a bit unusual, but I wasn't about to call it out. I chalked it up to exhaustion and paranoia. After the day we'd all had, it was to be expected.

We passed the Pallisdale exit, the last one before Queensbury, and I shifted into the right lane. Suddenly the lights lining the highway blinked out. I felt the engine in the SUV die. I tried to frantically keep us from hitting the guardrail as we began to slow. Alarm rushed through me, and Spencer's eyes went wide. My heartbeat thudded in my ears.

I jumped at the sound of a gunshot across the otherwise empty highway. The noise left me rattled, and my panic only grew with what seemed to be utterly unpredictable events. 

_It was what? Nine a clock? Ten?_ Regardless the darkness surrounding us was deserted. No one around but us, and whoever was shooting.

I felt powerless as the car refuse my control, but at least we were slowing down, and we wouldn't hit anything. Another bang echoed as we finally slowed enough for me to glance in the rearview mirror.

Before I could glimpse anything, the little car raced out of sight. The only thing remaining after a couple seconds was the image of half a license plate in my mind. Fear engulfed me at the thought of what I might find when I stepped outside of this vehicle.

"FG1 - Uhm - I - Gah I can't see it!" I struggled. I was shouting and barely noticed.

"B7!" He replied as we hurriedly exited the now useless car, running towards the others who were stopped half a mile behind us.

As we approached, I saw one of the side windows had shattered. Hotch and Emily crowded around the door with the broken glass, and, instantly, I knew something had just gone horribly wrong.

"What happened!" Reid shouted as he stopped beside the SUV, slightly out of breath.

"First shot hit Rossi, and the second hit Morgan. They're both doing okay for now." Hotch answered, forcing himself to exert such a sense of calm and restraint that it helped us to step back from the situation. He pressed every button on his seemingly useless phone before throwing it onto the hood of the SUV. Reid took out his and tried to turn it on, but all he got was a black screen.

I searched despairingly for any cars coming down the highway, but it was as if we were the only ones on the planet.

Spence was next to Morgan. The bullet hit him in the shoulder, but he appeared stable. Rossi seemed worse off. He was either unconscious or in a daze, it was hard to tell, but Emily leaned over him, maintaining pressure firmly on his right side. Everyone else was giving them space, and not one of us had any idea of what to do.

"I'm okay," Morgan said, gritting his teeth. He was strong, but we all knew he was just trying to help us worry less.

"How did this happen?" I asked, pacing. There was nothing I could do for anyone this time. "We're - we're miles from anywhere."

Shaking, I walked closer towards Morgan.

"It - it could have been an EMP?" Spence theorized. 

"EMP?" Hotch asked, trying to get a signal on the radio.

"An electromagnetic pulse. It would crash any electronics area."

"It would be bad." Morgan summed up.

"Is there any way to call for help?" I asked Spence, hoping someone had an idea. "Can I fix this?"

Hotch joined Emily by Rossi's side, his face stoic.

"Garcia's system gets notified when any of us disconnect our cells. All of us going out at once... She'll get us help." Hotch tried to comfort us. I know he didn't have a shred of certainty, but it was all we had left.

I tried to breathe, but it grew harder, and soon it was like I couldn't breathe at all. My body was so flooded with fear that my lungs didn't accept air.

I watched Rossi's blood drip onto the pavement. Morgan cried out in pain despite his attempts to play this off as nothing. Hotch began to fall apart, I could see it. And there I Was, standing, observing, while, as far as I could see, the lights remained dark.

_None of this could be real._

_This was a nightmare. _

_It had to be._


	3. A Light in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranded in the middle of the night in the middle of the highway, Spencer has to push aside his thoughts and feelings for Maeve to help his team save their friends. Trying to find some kind of logic to reassure him that the world isn't falling apart, Spencer realizes that his life took quite a drastic turn in 24 hours, and it was all far from okay.

***Reid's POV***

Five minutes passed. Five turned into ten, and so on until any semblance of hope remaining shrivelled pitifully. I never left Morgan's side. I could think of a dozen times when he sat by my bed to watch over me, and I never gave a second thought to doing the same. 

Small snippets of Maeve relentlessly invaded my mind, distracting me, but my instincts whisked them away to make room for one overwhelming need; making a plan. 

"You're going to be fine, you hear me, Morgan?" I told him. He nodded, his eyes clouded. I held back the storm of messy, mixed emotions that surged against my logic. It was for the best to ignore what I felt - at least for now. I looked around as if something would jump out at me and show me what to do.

JJ had always been the most openly emotional member of our team, but, usually, she kept a level head. This time though, she seemed on the verge of shattering before my eyes. She leaned against the open passenger-side door, staring aimlessly into the distance. 

Hotch fiddled with a couple wires in the car radio, but, if we were honest, we were hopeless with technology. I had a basic knowledge of cars, but I was sure it wouldn't be enough to get around whatever had happened to our tech.

Emily sat with Rossi. She was murmuring comfortingly to him, doing her best to keep up a brave face while tending to his injuries.

There was nothing but darkness and silence, yet the world was screaming in my ears. I observed every possible detail I could, and nine ideas fought for consideration simultaneously.

We had two useless cars, guns, two injured agents, and no supplies beyond a travel-sized first aid kit. I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut, demanding myself to come up with an answer.

"It's okay Reid." Morgan nudged me, regretting the action instantly when it made his muscles tense in protest.

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?"

"We all need to hear it." 

A spark flickered somewhere inside my thoughts, and I sifted through the other emotional muck to find it. "You're right..." I whispered. "We all need to hear it." Repeating what he said, I waved JJ over. Asking her to replace me in tending to Morgan, I raced back towards the SUV further up the highway.

Grabbing my gun and running back, I explained, out of breath, to my team. "We'll try to get someone's attention. Someone will hear. There's a residential neighbourhood... um... Yorkwood! It's three miles west of here." I said, finally providing us with something to do other than waiting around.

"Two gunshots could be mistaken for firecrackers or just an accident..." Emily started.

"But twenty?" I hinted, handing JJ her gun as well. 

I finished putting together the plan. Finally, I no longer felt useless. "If we fire shots into the air, then -"

Before I could come full circle in my explanation, a light blazed from over the hill in front of us, growing steadily as it approached. After being in nothing but the moonlight for almost fifteen minutes, it was blinding, but a relief none the less. JJ, Hotch, and I headed to the middle of the road, blocking the lane. We waved frantically, but there was no need - the car was already gliding to a stop.

_We would be okay,_ I thought, believing, for once, that it was true.

The car pulling in front of us was pristine - with a shiny exterior and new wheels. A man stepped out who matched his vehicle, boasting an expensive-looking suit and tie with spotless black dress pants. 

"What happened?" The man asked, walking over. His sense of calm took me off guard. 

I noticed a laminated badge clipped to his belt. His suit shifted, covering the picture and name, but based on his practiced demeanour and apparent money, I assumed he had a medical background. He wasn't military - his stance was off - and a high-ranking businessman wouldn't have the same composure. 

Hotch didn't waste a second. "We need you to call an ambulance. Tell them it's an emergency - that two people have been shot. All of our electronics went dark." 

The man nodded. "I'll call the hospital directly. I'm a doctor, how else can I help?" He asked, dialling quickly and relaying the information given by Hotch to the emergency responders while JJ and I returned to the broken SUV.

"I'm calling the police too. We'll catch who did this, don't worry." He and Hotch approached us, the phone already to his ear.

"There's no need for that." JJ shook her head at him, taking his device and ending the call to 911.

"You were shot at in the middle of a highway! The authorities need to know!" He exclaimed. "Legally, I have to report this to the authorities, and civil duty encourages you to do the same. I know you're all shaken, but it's going to be okay now." Pulling out his badge, he showed us. 

"My name is Gordan Huron. Now it's going to be alright, but we need to call the police." Gordan said very clearly, talking to us like we hadn't understood the first time around. 

Pulling out our own badges, we showed him our pictures and credentials. "We may not be the authorities you were thinking of, but I'm pulling rank here," Hotch said. 

Gordon conceded quickly, knowing when he was beaten. He moved to put away his badge, and I froze. A logo dominated the back of it - a blue letter Q with a floral design.

"Wait!" I shouted, my voice coming out louder and more desperate than I intended. "You're a doctor at Queensbury?"

Gordon nodded. I took a breath, my stomach fluttering. "Did you just come from there?"

"No," he answered, kneeling to examine Morgan, "I was on my way to a fundraising gala downtown."

My heart fell. Hope was too dangerous for me right now. I pushed it away and grabbed tightly onto my logical thinking before it disappeared again. Rossi wasn't doing any better, but at least his condition hadn't deteriorated. Gordan was caring for him after asserting that Morgan was well off. 

Emily held Rossi's hand, even though she knew he couldn't feel it. He was too out of it, but at least we were all still alive.

We heard the sirens before we could see the lights. They wailed like high pitched cries in the night, the echo steadily growing until they were upon us. I felt lighter, hopeful, even, and from everyone else's reactions, I knew they did too. 

Morgan was doing fine, and Rossi was... holding on. After being stranded for almost twenty minutes, there was finally a light at the end of this tunnel. 

The ambulances screeched to a stop, and a team of six medics ran towards us. My heart skipped a beat. This entire scene gave me a rush of deja vu, reminding me of the too similar events that played out barely an hour ago. It felt so far away. The pain of Maeve slipping away from me was dulled, replaced by the sharper image of Morgan and Rossi being pulled from the SUV.

After our friends had been secured, and we were given the usual assurances of _'it will be okay,'_ and _'we'll do everything we can,'_ we were left standing lost at the side of the road among the shattered glass.

Gordon offered to drive the rest of us to the hospital. We agreed immediately, thanking him profusely. None of us noticed how dirty we were until the four of us entered the clean, spotless car. Our driver handed us a box of baby wipes to clean the blood off our hands. We thanked him again as the car buzzed to life and drove, following closely behind the ambulances.

There was no point in doing anything about the stranded SUVs, that would have to wait until later.

It was utterly silent in the little car. JJ, Emily, and I crammed into the back seat, each of us lost in our own heads. Hotch, sitting up front with Gordon, seemed ready to talk but at a loss for words. I tapped my finger on my knee, my nervousness needing an outlet. Now that there was stillness and nothing else to think about, my mind flew back to thoughts about Maeve. 

I was hit by a wave of regret. Exasperated, my hand gripped the fabric of my khakis so tightly, my knuckles became an intense white. JJ put her hand on mine, and I tried to use her comfort to calm down, but it did little for me.

_This was all my fault,_ I thought, _I was given too many opportunities to make a choice that didn't end this way._

My body felt like it was being eaten away from the inside out. I wanted to cry, to scream, to break down and fall on my knees, but to fight and punch and hit. I always thought about my emotions. Never had my feelings grown strong enough for my entire being to burn with a desire to feel instead of to think.

With JJ on my left and Emily to the right, I felt safe. 

I felt safe. These were two of the people I trusted most, and they would do anything for me, just as I would for them. 

_Then why did I still feel so lost?_ I asked myself. There was no great insight. No sudden rush of denial or acceptance or grief. 

Emily stroked my arm. "It'll be okay, Spence." She said it, but it lacked her usual confidence. The word 'okay' didn't even seem like a word to me anymore. 

"We never called Garcia," I said, voicing my train of thought out loud. "She'd be having a panic attack by now, and making everyone's lives back at the BAU a nightmare."

Hotch nodded. "We'll call as soon as we can."

Gordon slowed the car, taking his small black device from his breast pocket and handed it to Hotch. He drove well. His eyes never left the road, and he was careful when distracted.

"Reid? Garcia's phone number?" Hotch questioned.

"738-857-2944" I answered quickly, finding the picture of my contacts list in my head.

IHotch pressed the speaker button so we could all hear. On the first ring, the speaker crackled to life.

"Hello?" Garcia's voice asked, she sounded frantic.

"Garcia, it's us," JJ said, loudly enough for the phone to pick up her voice.

"Oh my god. I've been so worried why did no one call sooner?" She asked, rambling onward without a pause. "One minute you were all happy little green dots beeping on my map and then you all just disappeared." She said, the relief eminent in her voice.

"Someone shot at us on the highway," Emily said. 

"They used an electro-magnetic pulse to incapacitate our vehicles and phones," I explained.

"Wait - wait - shot at you? Is everyone okay? Where are Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan?" The information had given her a thousand more questions to ask.

"Sorry. We're all a little shaken, we should have led with that." I apologized. "Morgan and Rossi were shot, we're following behind the ambulance now." We heard banging and clinking on the other end of the line.

"We're going to Queensbury hospital," Hotch told her.

"Okay. Yeah. I'm literally already out the door." She said. We heard her shouting to Kevin in the background, asking for a drive. 

"How are you calling me if you don't have cells?"

"We flagged down a car on the highway and asked for a ride and a phone. We're driving with Gordon Huron right now." Emily explained.

"Okay. Okay." Garcia whispered, trying to take in all the information.

JJ tried to comfort her, "Garcia, it's okay. Everyone is going to be fine." 

I couldn't help but notice that word again. 'Okay.' It's meaning lost on me more and more each time I heard it.

"Is it... Is it bad?" Garcia asked helplessly. All we could hear on our end was the chime of the elevator, but we knew her well enough. I could imagine the tears running down her face, smearing her colourful makeup.

"Morgan was hit in the shoulder, and he should be fine. Rossi... We have plenty of hope." Hotch said, trying to make it easy for her. "Modern medicine is a wonder, remember that Garcia."

We heard her sniffle, trying to hold it together, she changed the subject abruptly.

"Hey, Reid," she said. I knew where this was going, and I wasn't quite ready to talk about it, but I supposed someone would have to breach the topic eventually. "I heard about Maeve, are you okay?" 

A thousand emotions competed for space in my head. "Yeah. I'm okay." I cringed internally at the word again. _What did it even mean at this point? Was it good? A way to cover up the bad? Or did it just translate to_ 'I'm still alive'?

The ambulances managed to pull ahead of us by a couple of minutes, and they were empty by the time we stopped in the hospital parking lot. It was almost full, despite the time. 

"We'll meet with you when you get here. Drive safe." Hotch spoke into the phone, ending the call, and returning it to Gordon.

"Thank you, we appreciate your generosity," JJ said as we exited the vehicle.

Gordon nodded and gave us a smile. "I hope you find that black car, whoever was driving - whoever did this." He said through his open window. "It'll be okay now. Your friends are in good hands." He drove off back the way we came.

We walked in a tightly knit group towards the big glass double doors. The stark, bright light of the hallways shined on our tired faces once we entered. 

It was a place bustling with activity - doctors and patients and families. Never had I felt more out of place. The atmosphere was... lively... normal... 

I didn't feel anything like that. Not anymore.


	4. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team arrives at the hospital, receiving news about Morgan, Rossi, Diane, and Maeve. Some of it lifts their spirits, but some is nothing but the result of a cruel universe intent on destroying any sense of hope that might remain. Spencer sits, powerless, letting the waves of hope and grief decide his future, wishing it could be different. And maybe it could...

**Reid's POV**

I've been in shock before. I recognized this dazed, numbed feeling that dragged inside of me, weighing down my every step. People say it's like walking underwater, but it's not quite the same thing. It's more like… like you're made of water, and at any moment without someone or something holding you together, stopping the very fabric of your being from collapsing in on itself, you would shatter to the ground. And, if you weren't careful, you'd end up never being the same as you were before. 

I trailed a few steps behind Hotch and Emily who led our sombre procession. We all fit comfortably into the elevator on our way to the third floor, our final destination according to the signs hanging from the ceiling that we followed dutifully in our search for the reception desk. The doors of the elevator, a metallic silver, distorted my reflection, which stared with hollow eyes and twisted features back at me. Before I could contemplate my appearance any further, the doors slid open to reveal a stark white hallway, with too-bright lights and the smell of disinfectant lingering heavily in the air.

I squinted from the glare. It was this minute feeling in the center of the numbness that sent my brain spiralling back to reality in its attempt to take stock of what was happening to my body. I tried to ignore the sharp pang of hunger, the dryness of my throat, the throbbing of my head. 

The hallway seemed never-ending. All I could see were a pair of automatic glass double doors at the end of it as we passed room after room filled with equipment, patients, doctors, and beds. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept. Maeve was missing for a long time - hours - but even though I slept before that… That was what? I recounted the events of the last couple of days, but my thoughts at this point were incoherent and messy, failing to create any semblance of order. I blamed it on the sleep; and the stress.

We finally reached the doors, emerging into a large, open floor with chairs, side tables and magazines. Half a dozen nurses and doctors milled around the large circular desk that dominated one corner of the room. Past it was a patient hallway, and when I saw it I felt the sudden urge to run, searching every corner of every room, even if it only contained the slightest chance that I might find Maeve there, alive and safe. I scanned every niche that I could see from where we were, seeking out any sign of Maeve, but I couldn't see much past the desk. _She could be anywhere_, I thought, resigning myself. 

All eyes turned to us once people noticed we were there. I realized we must have seemed incredibly strange with our dishevelled appearances, and I knew I still had blood on my clothes. It barely registered to me that we had even come to a halt in front of the desk. Hotch spoke to the nurses, and I listened, pulling myself back to the present. 

"My agents, Derek Morgan and David Rossi," he said, flashing his badge, "we're looking for them. They were only about ten minutes ahead of us." A young man who couldn't have been older than twenty-five, with blue butterflies on his scrub top and ruffled hair, shuffled through the charts cluttering the desk.

Before the nurse got a chance to find the correct files, a soft siren sounded on one of the dozen monitors that filled the wall behind them. They quickly turned towards it, assessing it, before one of them pressed a button on the wall - 'Code Blue.' The others scattered, rushing purposefully, completely abandoning their post.

A doctor was scurrying away in the opposite direction of the code, carrying a pile of charts and balancing a cup of coffee on top of them. I jumped at the opportunity for information, leaving the group and stopping the doctor before she was pulled away to another more pressing task.

A look of shock filled her eyes, looking me up and down and then drifting to the others. "Hi," she whispered, taking a step back while gripping the charts closer to her chest. She made an effort to shake my hand to introduce herself, "I'm Lexie. Can - Can I help you? I'm an intern, I don't, um," she stuttered, nodding in the direction that everyone else had run, "I don't run codes."

"We're looking for people," I said, trying not to overwhelm the clearly nervous intern. "Maeve Donovan, Derek Morgan, and David Rossi. They-"

"Gunshot wounds!" Lexie exclaimed. From her expression, I could see she instantly regretted her reaction. "Sorry, sorry. I mean - I just um. Your friends, they all have gunshot wounds. I know because I got paged to the ER when they came in, but my resident - Doctor Harris - he told me I had to finish charting before I could help out."

Hotch jumped in, coming to stand next to me. "Are they okay?"

"I don't - I don't know. I can find out. I can pull it up on the system…" She trailed off, going for the computer. Every keystroke felt like a push that nudged me closer and closer to a precipice that I was forced to balance on. This was it; either I would find myself safe on land... or I would fall...

We all held our breath, only the sound of clacking from the keyboard mixed with the faint clamour at the end of the hall remained. The pit in my stomach pounded wave after wave of guilt into me because Rossi and Morgan were hurt, yet all I could think about was Maeve. I handled stuff like this every day, compartmentalized it and moved on, but more loss and failure was too much for my mind to handle. I thought back to the letter, to all of the things we had promised to do, to see. The dreams we'd shared and everything we told each other we hoped to try.

"I can only release information to family members. Who here - um - belongs... to Derek Morgan?" Lexie asked awkwardly. 

I fumbled through the pockets of my khakis, coming up empty. Hotch pulled out his badge again. "We're all federal agents."

"Okay." The look of surprise dissipated as she ignored that particular fact so she could help us. "Well, Mark Harris is the resident on these cases. Derek Morgan is in surgery with Doctor Lee. According to the chart here, he came in stable and," she pulled up some x-rays, "here are his scans," she finished, turning the monitor towards us. "I don't see why he shouldn't pull through just fine." She left the monitor slightly ajar so we could see it, bringing up another file. "This is David Rossi, he's one of yours too?" Lexie asked. We nodded, and my eyes scanned it entirely before she told us what was happening. "See here?" She pointed to the black and white films on the screen, "this one is a bit more complicated, but the bullet isn't anywhere near the spine." Lexie looked at us, going into more detail, "that's good. What we're really concerned about here is infection, blood loss, or strain on his heart from surgery." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hotch shift despite his rocky demeanour, and JJ's hands cupped around her mouth. Lexie's eyes widened as she stumbled to give us some good news, "he should be alright, I mean. He should, really. Doctor Harris is working on him right now." By this point, we were speechless, and, in the silence, I heard the pounding of my pulse. Maeve had to be next.

Lexie worked to pull up the last file when I felt JJ's hand grip my elbow tightly. It looked like Lexie was struggling, her eyebrows narrowed, and I felt my heart plummet. 

"Sorry… It's probably just a glitch in the system. Give me a moment," she muttered, turning the computer back towards her, trying to get the system to obey her commands. I watched her every move, her every expression, for any sign of news.

"Ah! There we -," she paused mid-sentence, her expression turned blank. My mind froze. My lungs stopped. The world was gone. 

Lexie's face softened, "I'm - I'm sorry. She was dead before the ambulance even got here." 

Lexie stood, reaching over the counter to take my hand. Hotch turned quickly and started pacing in circles. "I am so sorry for your loss," Lexie said, "we did everything we could. If you want, I could take you to see her? So you can say goodbye. I can go check on your friends and then I can take you."

I nodded mutely, not even understanding what I had just agreed to. My mind was reeling, and I couldn't imagine - I couldn't imagine.

"The police, they want to talk to you. Find out what happened, and who did this."

"We haven't figured that out yet, we'll talk to them when we can," Hotch said.

My eyes sat dejectedly in my skull, unmoving, left to stare idly at the blankness of it all. There was a desk, a white wall, railings leading up some stairs behind a glass door. Signs. Monitors. But no people, even Lexie had left hurriedly. 

My usual quick thinking was blocked by something. It was as if my mind was refusing to process the information, building a dam against it.

An overwhelming feeling of emptiness grew in me until it felt as if I were about to be swallowed whole. Everything shut down, I saw stars, felt myself falling to my knees. I just stood there, letting myself fall. I probably would have stayed there until I lost to the exhaustion if JJ hadn't helped me up, leading me gently towards the chairs in the waiting room.

My body shook involuntarily, and I felt tears running down my cheeks but couldn't remember when they started. I cried. Openly, painfully, sobs caught in my throat but never made a sound. I had been silenced by the world that seemed determined to destroy me. I… I lost. I lost whatever sick game it all was.

The entire team was trying to comfort me. JJ had her arms wrapped around me, stopping me from slipping onto the cold floor tiles. Their touch didn't make the emptiness disappear, it only grew and grew, a hole inside of my chest that drained me. A debilitating pain that ripped through me, blinded me. Maeve, my person, the girl who I could see myself having kids with, sharing my soul with, telling my darkest fears and my brightest hopes to.

Emily tried talking to me, I could see her, but I didn't see her. She swam in my vision, but, each time I tried to look at her, my eyes burned, and I was forced to close them again, giving control to the darkness.

We sat on the waiting room chairs, the ones made of dense metal pieces with rough blue and grey upholstery. I sat with no intention of ever getting up. From that moment, I simply stopped making plans for the future. I was left suspended in time. JJ and Emily sat on either side of me, while Hotch stood over us all protectively. 

"Spence. Look at me," JJ begged. I shook my head. We were all emotionally wrung and tired, at a loss for the words or the actions that would change this. How had the world changed so drastically in a matter of minutes? I had no say in it. The universe had no right to be so… cruel.

I heard talking, but I couldn't understand a word of it through the ringing and rush of thoughts that deafened me to the outside world. Ideas of Maeve, pictures of the future, affectionate words in letters, and Sunday afternoon phone calls filled with her voice. They all came to mind, drowning out everything else.

My body trembled. I had been shot, punched, drugged, and a host of other unimaginable things, but those pains, they dulled after a while, adrenaline lessened them, and they became bearable. But this? The pain only gained strength, being fueled by every memory and every new thought and wish that I lost at that moment. I hadn't just lost the past we had - the letters and the Sunday afternoons - I'd lost a lifetime.

Shattered fragments of feelings came through as I tried to voice the one thought that eclipsed all the others. I muttered something unintelligible, pulling it from the memories.

"What was that, Reid?" Emily asked. I suddenly found myself shoved unceremoniously back into reality. 

My mind had run into a barrier, and it knocked the breath from my lungs when I tried to talk. My voice wavered, "I told her I didn't love her," I whispered.

"Spence…"

The words tumbled out of my mouth, building up a hysteria between desperate gasps for air. "She knows I didn't mean it... that I was just saying it... to try and get Diane to drop the gun... But I never got to tell her... To say..."

"That you loved her?" JJ suggested, seeing I had given up trying to explain.

"I still love her…" 

A silence fell, so I cried. One by one, I felt little pieces of my body become numb to the pain until I wasn't sobbing as loudly anymore. Silent tears continued to run along my cheeks, dripping onto my shirt. I leaned my head on JJ's shoulder, contemplating the nothingness. She put an arm around me, and we sat. There was no movement in our group except for the few times Hotch checked with the nurses, who had long since returned, successful or unsuccessful I had no idea. He never said anything, so I had to assume everything was alright. 

"I don't believe in fate," I said after a long pause. "There's science, and coincidence, and causation, but not fate." No one interrupted my ramblings. "After everything… it felt like fate. But then - then how was - how could?" I hated that I couldn't form more than one coherent sentence at a time.

"I think fate does exist," Emily whispered to me.

Hotch moved a chair closer, forming a little circle with us. "So do I." 

My eyes roamed around slowly before landing on them, and I invited Emily to continue, even though I didn't entirely understand what she was trying to say. "I believe in fate, and in happy endings," she said, trying to smile. She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "But I don't think fate can always be in control. Sometimes-" her voice caught in her throat, "sometimes we lose. And there is nothing we can do except decide to keep on living in a world where sometimes bad things happen to good people."

"The universe is cruel," I said, burying my head into JJ's shoulder so I didn't have to look at anything or anyone anymore. We sat for another twenty minutes before a doctor, who looked weary and overworked as most working the night shift did, and the same kind-eyed nurse with the butterfly scrubs returned.

I refused to let go of JJ, and she never let go of me. I didn't stand; only Hotch did - to shake the doctor's hand.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Pascal. I am here to talk about Derek Morgan, David Rossi, Maeve Donovan, and Diane Turner." Before he could continue, there was an exclamation from behind us that interrupted the conversation. I glanced around half-heartedly when a collection of bright colours against the dull white and beige of the hospital caught my eye. 

We watched Garcia approach us, with her pink high heels and Kevin in tow. "Darlings! Is everyone okay? What's happening?" She asked from several feet away. When she finally made her way over to us, she searched our faces. Landing on mine, I could see her eyes panic before realizing I was the only one who was broken down. "Oh no…" she whispered, putting a hand on my shoulder. I sniffled, ignoring her and looking back towards Pascal. I couldn't handle another person trying to comfort me. I'd just lose control again, and I felt that if I did, I would never come back to reality.

"Derek Morgan will recover with no permanent damage," Pascal explained, "the bullet didn't tear through any muscles or major arteries, so we removed it, and he's sedated but in recovery. David Rossi is still in surgery, but it's going well. He's lucky, there was no damage to any organs, and we're not concerned yet." He took a breath, checking the chart in his hand. "According to our neurosurgeon on staff, Diane Turner can be released into your custody in about a week if her recovery goes well. She's not out of the woods, but it's looking very good that she'll make a full recovery. She's in the ICU right now, although she won't be awake for another four or five hours if you need to question her. We also have two security officers guarding her." 

The doctor explained each person's case, but when he got to Diane's, I stiffened. "What?" I whispered, staring so intently at the doctor it was as if I had never blinked in my life. No one seemed to hear me, so I spoke louder, voicing my disbelief. "Diane Turner is alive?" My voice was scratchy from crying, but everyone heard. We all looked equally confused except for Pascal. I didn't understand how that was possible. Diane had shot herself, she was dead...

I knew there were reported cases of people miraculously surviving gunshot wounds in the head, but I didn't think… or maybe I just didn't want to believe.

I only vaguely heard the rest of the conversation once I retreated back into my own head. "Where are they?" Hotch asked.

I idly watched Pascal glance at the chart again, "your agents will be staying in the same room, fifty-nine," he said, turning the page. "And Diane is in room fifty-one."

"Spence, I know you're in shock. I know this is a lot, but would you like to go see Maeve? You'll want to say goodbye." JJ whispered, putting both hands on my shoulders. She looked in my eyes and searched for some kind of response. I glanced away, still just trying to come to terms with the fact that not only had we lost… but the bad guys won.

"I-I-I don't," I tried. The doctor and nurse stayed silent, deciding to wait and let us talk.

"Spence, do you want me to come with you?" JJ tried. She spoke to me like a fragile child, raising my chin with one hand.

I just shrugged. "I have this image of Maeve. I never really saw her happy, but when I think about her... I see her smiling." New tears welled in my eyes, and I had to push them away before I could try and talk again. "I don't know if I want to change my last image of her…"

"Oh, sweetie, I know," Garcia said, hugging me tightly. She tucked the hair that had flopped in front of my face behind my ear. "But I think you'll want to say goodbye."

I nodded, "okay." I looked at JJ, and she nodded as well. Together, we followed the nurse through the automatic glass doors, through hallway after hallway, until we got to an elevator. We proceeded to weave through the hospital, and JJ held on tightly to me the entire time. I was thankful for the constant pressure that reminded me of where I was. It kept the darkness at bay.

Finally, we arrived at a single door with a small black plaque, white letters announced it as the morgue. I took a breath and followed after the nurse who had already opened the door, waiting patiently for us. 

There were numerous silver tables, some empty, but some holding bodies covered in white sheets. It was a gruesome sight, and, despite what I saw every day, the morgue was a different kind of atmosphere. It was inherently unsafe and sinister. 

There was a heavy silence, with nothing but the sounds of our footsteps that brought us towards one of the tables. I could hear the pounding of my own heartbeat, and weight pulled down on my chest, the same feelings I'd felt a few too many times today.

JJ walked me closer, only to let go of my arm and step aside for the first time. The nurse gripped the thin white sheet, and, at the last second, I changed my mind, letting my eyes snap shut. I shook my head gently in denial, refusing to do this. Before I could decide any further, I heard JJ gasp. My eyes flew open in surprise at the unexpected sound, and I glimpsed a streak of blond hair.


	5. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the sudden realization that a single, life-altering mistake was made, Spencer faces a new reality he could have only dreamed of, and fate takes the wheel.

****Reid's POV****

My vision steadied, concentrating on the blond streak of hair captivating my attention. Something pulled my gaze toward the girl's face until I was staring directly at her. Slowly, I processed what I saw, yet, still, I drew a blank as to the larger meaning of it all. 

"Diane…?" I asked out loud. My eyebrows furrowed, disconcerted, before realizing what had happened.

I shook my head, denying in the moment that this could be true. If this was real… Well... This was like a kind of dream you have on a lonely night. The ones where you wish for something as wholeheartedly as you can, yet the universe is keeping it out of reach, taunting you with memories and flashes of what-ifs and could-have-beens.

I didn't dare utter another word for fear of breaking the silence that had fallen after I'd spoken. I entirely expected to be somehow dragged back to a different reality. The one I'd come from, where hopelessness and failure and loss loomed over everything else. My mind scrambled, and I struggled internally, fighting to ignore the body in front of me. To ignore the blond hair, the pale skin, the bullet wound on the left temple. I just needed a moment…

It sunk in anyways, and, as the seconds passed by and there was no sudden change, the truth dawned on me. All of this was real. 

Our conversation from mere minutes ago burst into the forefront of my mind in a loud flurry of speech as I rewound the words, finding what I wanted. If I'd known then when I was listening I wouldn't have spent another second standing there. Not moving forward. Not getting to her. 

It took my body time to catch up to the thoughts that raced in my head, and I sprung into action once I felt the paralyzing weight of shock lift from my shoulders. _How could I have survived it?_ I asked myself once I felt that loss melt away, gradually replaced by hope. The difference it made... I can't imagine the alternative.

Looking at JJ, my eyes wide and my heart pounding, I whispered, only half asking her the question, "Fifty-one?" 

She nodded, not speaking or making any effort to stop me. I hesitated, but ever so gently, she nodded again, this time to the doorway, and I didn't waste any more time. I ran. 

I didn't stop to see the nurse's expression or if JJ was following behind me. I ran without even really knowing how to get where I was going in this maze of a hospital. I just knew one number, and it overwhelmed my other thoughts.

The doors on this floor were in the twenties, so I looked for stairs that would bring me closer. My shoes pounded against the pristine floor, occasionally making minute squeaking sounds that died away quickly. I didn't run much, but I hardly felt out of breath.

People stared as I bolted through the hallway. I'm sure I looked ridiculous, yet I didn't have a care in the world or even enough mental capacity to mind what anyone else thought. I was so close. 

I found the stairwell, with signs beside the doors of the landings after each flight. I practically leapt up the steps, taking them two or three at a time, pulling myself up with the metal railing that my sweaty palm slipped down periodically, protesting the exertion. _One more flight to go_, I thought to myself. 

On my last set of eleven stairs, I tripped, coming crashing down. My knee smashed against the step, but I quickly pulled myself up, scrambling, and flung open the door with the large red number five stencilled onto it in white numbers with a red background. I squeezed the door handle for a few extra seconds, riding out the sharp pain radiating up my knee. As soon as it eased up, I shook it off and continued.

I searched each door for a number until I found one - room fifty-nine - next to a supply closet and another large half-moon desk. There was a small part of my thoughts that pulled me towards room fifty-nine, but even then, the moment I saw the number, I spun around, finding room fifty-eight to my left. 

Scanning the room numbers frantically, I sprinted down the hall, too close to do anything but continue in my desperate motions accompanied by rambling thoughts. My mind was blank but for the numbers. It was like a white noise had tuned out any real ideas or feelings, leaving nothing but the numbers.

I turned a corner, nearly running into an elderly woman with a cane and a nurse helping her amble down the hallway. I barely stopped after I apologized profusely, even after I heard people shouting behind me. Dozens of exam rooms, on-call rooms, and supply closets lined the hall, making my destination seem further and further away with every second.

_Come on_, I pleaded inwardly. _She will be alright. She will be alright._ I chanted the mantra again. 

Three more doors. 

Finally, I dared to ask myself the question: Do I believe in fate?

I ground to a halt outside of room 51. The words "Patient Room" were stencilled on the bottom left corner of the glass, separating me from the person inside. The blinds were blocking any clear view of the interior.

_Fate? _

_Fate… _

_Yes._

I hesitated before grabbing the door handle and pushing it open. It flew inwards, and I heard a chair scrape against the tiled floor as my heart pounded. 

My eyes darted around the room, and they were immediately drawn to the single bed in the middle of the small space. Lying there, eyes closed peacefully and none the wiser about anything that'd happen since we were back in that abandoned apartment, was Maeve.

A thick comforter covered her, and the picture in front of me clashed with the still fresh image in my mind of the thin surgical sheet from the morgue that I'd thought… 

I shook my head, standing, breathless, in the doorway. I could almost feel the peaceful scene mending the brokenness inside of me. Before I had the chance to rush over or shake away the shock, I was met with a burly man that, although he didn't tower over me, was stern enough to be intimidating. 

His uniform was that of the average security guard, and he, too, was standing shocked. He managed to stand his ground, which gave me a flash of admiration for him until I noticed he had one hand on the gun strapped to his belt. To him, the gun was his only power, and he held onto it tightly. 

I chastised myself internally. This man, no older than thirty, had been told to guard a murderer, and all of a sudden someone barges into the room out of breath, dishevelled, and frantic? Of course he's going to draw his gun.

"State your business," the guard demanded. I glimpsed a tiny silver nameplate over his breast pocket; Roger. I wasn't in any state of mind to navigate my way out of this situation. I could see the world but didn't understand.

I ignored Roger, against what I'm sure would have been my better judgement if I weren't standing aimlessly in the doorway. My eyes were fixed on Maeve, and the rest of the world had disappeared. Her brown hair fell in semi-curls on the white pillow, and her skin was still a bit pale. She was hooked up to an IV, white gauze wrapped around her neck, and the monitor tracking her heartbeat showed a normal rhythm. Her wrists were cuffed to the railings on the bed and seeing this made my stomach turn.

"State. Your. Business." Roger said, threateningly enunciating every word as if I hadn't quite heard him the first time. Every fibre of my being pulled me towards Maeve and my heart surged with a flurry of emotions. The most frightening thing, however, was the sudden existence of dreams. Dreams and plans that, for all I knew, could still be taken away.

Roger stretched out his arm, blocking my path. "Leave," he growled with a firm sense of finality. I glanced at Maeve again, and I tried to slow myself down. It wouldn't help her if I got shot. Roger grabbed my arm and nodded to the door.

"I'm a federal agent, get your hands off of me," I said, stepping backwards, finally pulling my eyes away. The guard seemed amused, pulling away as well.

"Yeah," he huffed, "and I'm the president." He unclipped a small radio from his belt without taking his eyes off of me. Pressing a little button on the side of it, he spoke, "This is Roger Scouli, we have an escapee from the psych ward in room 51." He crossed his arms, determined to do his job.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not mentally ill," I sputtered, anger rising in my chest. "I have an IQ of 187, and I'm an FBI agent. I'm a profiler." I patted my pockets but realized my credentials were in the suit jacket I had folded under Maeve's head. I berated myself for my response. Even I knew what I was saying sounded irrational. I tried to think logically, but she was so close. I couldn't keep my thoughts straight. "I know how this looks, but-"

Another burly guard came up behind me, dressed identically as the nurses in blue scrubs. His, however, were slightly baggy, no doubt to conceal a variety of ways to subdue psych patients. He looked me up and down. I sighed, surely by now he was as convinced as Roger that I was insane. _Why didn't I at least change my clothes when I had the chance?_ I guess I hadn't had a chance.

The new arrival grabbed my arm firmly, pulling me away. "Come now, son. We don't want to go causing a ruckus, now do we?" 

I panicked again, yanking myself from his grasp. "Release me. You have no authority here!" I exclaimed. People began to stare. Doctors and patients muttered in hushed voices as they peeked in the doorway to watch the scene, but I didn't care.

I paused, forcing myself using all the willpower I had left to focus and rationalize. This sudden shift from seemingly manic to calm caught the guards by surprise, giving me a small window of opportunity where they listened instead of reacted. 

"Look, stop this," I begged, "I can prove it to you. There's a bag there," I explained carefully, not making any movements and simply gesturing to a transparent bag hanging on a hook in the corner. "It's got her clothes, with my gun and badge in my coat. This- This isn't Diane Turner. It's-" I swallowed hard, pushing through despite my strained voice, "It's Maeve Donovan."

I watched them size me up until, finally, the original guard nodded slowly, allowing me to pass him and walk across the room. Every step I took was deliberately slow as his eyes never left me, his hand hovering near his belt.

A weight sunk in my chest, pulling down on my heart as I shuffled past the end of Maeve's bed. I turned away and reached the hook. With care, I took it down and went through Maeve's clothes, eventually finding my jacket that I'd tucked under her head. I tugged at it but underestimated how wrapped it was among the other clothes. It came flying out after another tug, and my phone skittered across the floor. 

The two guards immediately had their weapons raised, the first the gun he'd wanted to draw the entire time, and the other a taser. I sighed in frustration, about to confront them again, this time rashly, growing tired of this pathetic back and forth.

I put my hands up and glanced back at Maeve. My head fell, and I stared resignedly at the tiles on the floor. 

The blue-scrubbed nurse approached me and was about to retake my arm when I heard someone shout, "Hey!" from the doorway.

My gaze shot upwards just in time to see JJ pull her credentials from her pocket. The guards stared incredulously at her.

"Drop your weapons. We're FBI. Let him go," she said, gesturing to each of them until they obeyed.

They insisted on explaining what was happening as if JJ didn't understand. "Ma'am, this man is dangerous, please step aside. We've been asked to guard this woman," Roger said politely.

"I would hope he's dangerous. He's an FBI agent," she said. Fearlessly, JJ strode across the room and picked up my jacket from where I'd dropped it at my feet. She pulled out my credentials and flipped them open, all the time glaring at the two guards. She nodded her head in the direction of the door. 

They stared at me, slowly looking back and forth at JJ and I until conceding. I looked at JJ thankfully and went to go to Maeve's side. First, I approached the men. I cleared my throat and spoke as clearly as my voice allowed. 

"I want the keys," I said, holding out my hand. Scouli relinquished them, still standing in a kind of stunned silence.

Murmuring their apologies, they left us alone, followed closely by JJ. As they walked through the door, they whispered what I'm sure were complaints to one another, but I couldn't hear what they said.

Gently, I unlocked the cold metal handcuffs. When my hands brushed hers, I felt a sense of peace that I couldn't have imagined before. I let the cuffs clatter loudly against the bed frame, where I abandoned them angrily.

I grabbed the chart hanging on the end of the bed, pulled up the only chair, and sat by her side, my eyes bouncing between Maeve and the chart. After a few moments of hesitation, I took her hand in mine and refused to let go. 

The doctor's neat handwriting filled the page, and I poured over every word and every letter. For the first time, I had some real information, not just fear and speculation, and I revelled in the peace of mind that it brought me. There were lab reports attached to scans with notes in a couple of different handwritings, but none of it bore unpleasant news. 

_11:23 PM  
The patient arrived at the E.R unresponsive, with obvious trauma to her neck. Paramedics informed us that there were shots fired, the shooter had shot herself in the head, and that the patient's vitals had weakened in the field. At this point, we had security restrain the patient while we performed x-rays to assess the damage done by the GSW._

_11:31 PM  
We discovered that the bullet missed the spine, carotid artery, and other major blood vessels. We decided to forgo general anesthesia and remove the bullet using a local anesthetic and repair the laceration. The patient regained consciousness as we were prepping her for the procedure. She showed no signs of neurological deficits; she had feeling in all extremities, could see, hear, and speak. However, the patient's psychological condition is unknown, since she did not know where she was, fought the restraints, and refused to talk to us or recount what happened. _

_11:34  
We were forced to sedate her after she tried to violently escape her restraints. _

_12:16 AM  
We completed the procedure without complications, and the patient is stable. _

"Hey," came a soft murmur from behind me. My gaze snapped to Maeve, but I shook my head, realizing it couldn't be her. JJ put her hand on my shoulder for what seemed to be the hundredth time. I'd be grateful for it when this was all over, but right now, it only made me shake. I looked up at JJ and sighed. 

I handed her the chart in silence, turning back towards Maeve. I didn't take away my hand that held hers tightly, but I didn't move any closer to her. 

"Spence, they sedated her, it could be hours," JJ whispered, crouching so she was level with me. You need to sleep so that you can think properly." I began to shake my head, but she wasn't finished. "You almost fought with a guard, Spence. I know you're not going to leave, I wouldn't. At least close your eyes, or grab a coffee and something to eat."

"I need to be here. Just let me know if we get any news about Morgan and Rossi, okay? I'll… I'll be here," I said. I was exhausted and emotionally wrung, yet I still knew what I wanted. It seemed simple. One thing. To sit by her side. That's all I'd wanted this entire time.

"Okay," JJ said. "Can I go get the rest of the team so we can keep you company?"

I nodded, taking in a couple long, shaky breaths. As long as I could be here, with Maeve, the others could keep an eye on me if that's what they wanted.

They all came in a few minutes later, finding someplace around the room to sit. They carried a couple of folding chairs, and there was already a small couch in the corner, which was enough for Garcia, Hotch, Emily, and JJ to each sit comfortably. JJ sat next to me in an equally uncomfortable upholstered chair like the ones in the waiting room. 

"How are you holding up?" She asked me. I tried to come up with a simple response but failed. 

"She's okay. So are you. We're all going to be okay," JJ insisted. 

As she said this, I couldn't help but think of how absurd it sounded. My voice came out soft and hurt, but at least it came at all. "Nothing about this is okay," I whispered. Finally, I took Maeve's hand in both of mine, feeling the warmth of her being alive. In the simple act of being alive, she had broken me. Tears rolled down my cheeks, even though I wasn't sad or happy. I was just so tired…

I sniffled, "they sedated her because she tried to break out of her restraints. Who knows where she thought she was? Captured… or- or worse..." I gently ran my fingers along the red marks on her wrist from where she inevitably tried to pull against the handcuffs. "I just wanted to protect her… And she wanted to protect me."

"I know," JJ said quietly, wrapping an arm around me, holding me tightly. 

I cried in emptiness, in hopelessness, and in brokenness. My exhausted mind worked overtime, and I let my head fall to lie beside Maeve's arm. I held her hand, squeezing it gently; my only reminder that the world could be bright, could be hopeful, and could be whole.

I thought of my hopes and dreams. The future. Then of how we ended up here. It was all because of a phone call...

**~ • ~ • ~ • ~ **

****Flashback****

I squinted against the harsh lights in the BAU office, trying to avoid the loud bustling of everyone getting ready to leave for the weekend. There was a pounding throb far back between my eyes that just got worse with every minute that I sat there, staring at the bright computer screen. 

We had just finished a case in Kentucky, and I had awkwardly confessed to Morgan what had been happening. I'd told him about my nightmares, years and years ago, and now it was the headaches. 

Finishing up my paperwork, my mind wandered idly. I eventually found myself doing research, looking for yet another doctor who would tell me that the headaches weren't real or weren't significant. I looked for answers.

Instead of the traditional doctors or neurologists that I'd seen to date, I searched for experts on schizophrenia. That's the day I decided to seek out a geneticist's opinion and found one who did research and clinical studies at the local university. I was hopeful that she might be able to help. After all of my efforts the last couple of months to find out what was happening, it only took me a half-hour to gather and send out all of the documents, scans, and labs for a consultation. 

Three days later, on an overcast and drizzling Monday afternoon, I got a call from an unknown number. I sat alone in the bullpen, going over some reports, when I answered.

"Doctor Spencer Reid," I said to the unknown caller.

"Good morning," said a cheery voice on the other end. The voice carried that professional tone that people seemed to use exclusively for phone calls. "I'm Doctor Maeve Donovan. I'm the geneticist you reached out to about your headaches."

"Oh hi! I was wondering when I'd hear from you," I leaned back in my chair, listening to the faint static coming through. My initial assumption about this consult was that she'd be like the rest, saying there was nothing wrong with me. I prepared myself for disappointment before continuing. "Did you find anything?" I asked.

She paused, then sighed gently. "Honestly, Doctor Reid, I couldn't find anything abnormal about your tests or scans."

I wasn't surprised, but the inkling of hope that I'd had still vanished, and that hurt. "But, if you want some advice, I'd be happy to give some. Remedies, next steps, new trials," she said, trying to console me.

"Did you... um," I paused, looking around nervously, "did you get my notes about my family tree?" I asked.

"I did," Dr. Donovan sighed, and I heard what sounded like a door close on her end. "You have every reason to be worried, but worrying doesn't do much good when it comes to being genetically predisposed to schizophrenia and dementia."

"So, what do I do?"

"Anxiety… it's - it's the mark of spiritual insecurity." She said. "You could-"

"Thomas Merton." I blurted, finding myself grinning for no real reason except for the sudden spark of connection.

She laughed, and I could practically hear her smiling through the phone. "Yes! I'm surprised you noticed. I felt like it was an appropriate reference." 

"It was," I chuckled back, walking through the office to collect a few things before leaving for lunch. I noticed Emily suddenly, and I quickly put on a neutral expression when she gave me a weird look. I must have looked strange, smiling like a crazy schoolboy. I turned away before she could question me. 

I returned my focus to the phone. I felt bold, so I ventured a little bit, wanting to talk to whoever this girl was."Favourite author?" I asked her, glancing to the side to avoid being overheard. I ducked into one of the side offices and leaned against the desk piled with file boxes. 

"Definitely one of them. I think Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work is my favourite though," she answered. We had gone way off-topic, but I didn't mind. It was rare I got to talk to someone who understood books as I did.

"Hmm, Sherlock Holmes or the narrative of John Smith?"

"Both." 

"I just finished re-reading Hounds of Baskerville in Latin. Even though that's not it's original language of publication I found it to be incredibly well done." 

"Latin?" I heard her laugh again.

"Yeah," I smirked and felt myself blush. I idly fiddled with the objects on the desk while we spoke, arranging them and rearranging them. 

"Hmm, I can speak enough French to get by, but other than that I'm hopeless when it comes to languages."

"I love languages - and learning. Most recently I learned Greek, but I also know a few others."

"So, you're a genius?" She teased. 

I smiled, "I-" Without a warning or my even hearing his footsteps or noticing his shadow, Morgan popped his head into the office.

"Hey, Reid, we've got a case. Conference room in fifteen." I just nodded towards him and pointed at the phone. 

He left, and Maeve was quick to jump in and fill the silence. "About your headaches. I'd like to suggest a mixture of riboflavin and magnesium, with an extra shot of vitamin B2," she explained, bringing the conversation back to business. What I know now that I didn't know then was that if she wanted to protect herself, and me, even though she didn't know me or have any obligation to protect me, our conversation couldn't go on much longer. 

"Alright," I said, "We should talk more about this later," I suggested, confused at the change of course the conversation had taken. "Maybe we can do it in person, grab a cup of coffee?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea," she said hurriedly.

"Sorry. You're right. It's unprofessional," I berated myself internally, vividly angry with myself for doing something so incredibly stupid. I shook it off, "But I do appreciate your professional opinion, it's more than anyone else has been able to give me." 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Okay," came the whisper almost a minute later.

"Okay?"

"I'll call you next Sunday, in about a week. Don't call me, though. I'll call you." 

"Sunday."

"Mhm. Sunday," and with that, the line went dead. I found this whole thing strange, but I couldn't help but be curious. The mystery of it all was alluring. 

I left the small office, putting my things back on my desk where I had picked them up when I thought I'd be going, rushing to the conference room so I wouldn't be late to the briefing. Deep down inside, where I didn't quite recognize it or realize it, a feeling distracted me: anticipation. I was excitedly waiting for Sunday.


End file.
